The Darkest Shade of Grey
by Omniskriba
Summary: When light sears and blinds, is it not darkness that offers recluse? A Goth Jyou fic from the twisted mind of Kyoko Jyou.
1. Default Chapter

~*~  
The Darkest Shade of Gray  
~*~  
By Kyoko_Jyou  
~*~  
Disclaimer: Oh yeah, Digimon ain't mine. How'd I forget?  
  
Author's Note: Due to my recent upgrade to Windows 98 (finally, out of the dark ages at last!), I had to save all my digimon stuff on a separate hard disk. It so happens that my digimon files are currently teeming with viruses (go figure!) so it may some time for me to get back into writing the next chapters for my old fics. For my catharsis and your reading enjoyment, here's my little attempt to write a rather dark and twisted Goth Jyou fic. Enjoy.  
  
Author's Note II: This tale moves back and forth through the years following the end of Season II (but before that Ep 50 fiasco). The Characters have changed a lot after one year (adolescence related stuff and all that). Here is a breakdown of what's been happening:  
  
(During Season 02)  
Jyou: 15, 5'7, Studying to be a Doctor  
Mimi: 14, 5'4, Really rich in America  
Sora: 14, 5'5 Playing Tennis  
Yamato: 14, 5'6 In a band  
Taichi: 14, 5'5 Cramming for an Exam  
Koushirou: 13, 5'3 On his computer, downloading porn somwhere  
  
(One Year After 02)  
Jyou: 16, 5'7 Studying to be a doctor. Clinically Depressed.  
Mimi: 15, 5'6 On Tour with Teenage Wolves. Cries a lot.  
Sora: 15, 5'7 Dating Taichi. Plans to go Pro in Tennis.  
Yamato: 15,5'11 On World Tour. Into Cocaine.  
Taichi: 15,5'9 Dating Sora. Plans on taking Law.  
Koushirou: 14'6'2 Enjoys being tall for a change. Plays Basketball.  
  
(Four Years After 02)  
Jyou: 19, 6'7 Head NeuroSurgeon in Tokyo's General Hospital.  
Mimi: Dead Dies from a gunshot after being raped by Yamato  
Sora: 18, 5'8 Dying from Hematoma after being hit in the head.  
Yamato: Dead Dies from Spontaneous Human Combustion (?)  
Taichi: 18, 6'0 Studying Law in Harvard. Degenerate.  
Koushirou: 17, 6'4 About to enter college. Looking for Jyou.  
~*~  
Gray.  
The shadowy line between light and darkness, neither and either being light and dark in and of itself.  
Gray.  
An infinite range of tones which transcend day unto night, black unto white, shadow unto light, and so on. In the beginning, God separated the Day from the Night. Before he did, there was probably only Gray.  
Jyou's color.  
Is Gray even a color?  
Red, blue, purple and green are all colors. Even the Kaiser's black has converted into a hue reminiscent of rose petals. In contrast, the absence of color has, and always will be, known as Grayscale.  
Colorless, indecisive, intermediate between dusk and dawn. Empty and cold beyond all cognition.  
Reliability? The Gray Cross? An enigma if there ever was one.  
Too abstract an aspect to be it's own crest.  
Jyou never did find out what it meant.  
He simply did what was needed of him, and that seemed to fill out his obligations. It never crossed his mind to think of it once again.  
What it meant.  
What sets him aside.  
What sets him apart.  
Until that night not too long ago...  
Under the moonless night...  
In the totality of darkness...  
When the gray shadows of midnight came to reclaim him...  
~*~  
When the Light sears and blinds, is it not darkness that delivers?  
~*~  
Chapter One: Solace found in Darkness  
~*~  
A 6'7 tall, fair skinned young man walked out the steps of Tokyo General Hospital. Deep dark sunglasses hid his demurely angular, stubbly-shaven face, its ebony black frames complimenting his midnight blue hair, flowing long and silkily into a ponytail tied with a crimson bow. Pectorals embossed, a sixpack evident, biceps freshly pumped under his sleeves and his shoulders broad, his body was vigorously sculpted, a veritable adonis in a black muscle shirt hiding under a thick black leather trenchcoat which flowed past his khaki pants down to his ankles, protected from the earth by a pair of steel-toed shoes.  
At first glance, one could mistake him as a male model visiting some sick relative.  
In fact, he is actually a resident physician- head of the hospital neuropathology and neurobiology department. It was quite a shock to a lot of people since he was only nineteen.  
A medical prodigy, they say. At sixteen, he'd have earned enough guts to take the Bar, and by some strange coincidence, he aced it. At seventeen, he was already a renowned doctor, performing his first hemispherectomy earlier this year.  
Of course, if he had been the same Jyou Kido he was before, he'd probably quit. That Jyou Kido has passed away.  
Dead with the last ounce of his old persona.  
The young man took to the dimly lit streets of Tokyo, a flock of ravens flying overhead, where he had moved a year back, on a chrome and black vintage Harley. His silken hair flew with the wind rushing across his face, his silver crucifix earings shimmering in the dark. His gloved hands gripped the handlebars tightly.  
Into the depths of the deepest darkness... into the night...  
~*~  
It was three years ago.  
A sixteen year old Jyou Kido stood before the grave of a lost friend, blanketed with bouquets of a thousand roses.  
"Farewell, sweet child of sincere faith,  
Though thoust has met a dreary fate,  
Farewell our friend, so long to thee,  
Within our hearts, you'll always be."  
Mimi Tachikawa.  
Dearly departed.  
Standing a meek and sickly 5'7 with a mat of tussled blue hair, he was the odd nerd in a funeral befit only for 'beautiful people', the Tachikawa kin, et al. All dressed in black, the digidestined had gathered to bid farewell to their strawberry-haired princess. Sora gripped Tai by the collar, mourning relentlessly. Takeru and Daisuke consoled young Hikari while Iori was solaced by Miyako which hung by Ken's arms. Koushirou gave a brief eulogy as well as Michael who had flown in from America to give his last respects.  
Only one man was missing.  
Poor Yamato.  
Poor, raving mad, murderous Yamato.  
Locked up and tossed into a prison cell somewhere for the rape and murder of one Mimi Tachikawa.  
Poor merciless, relentless Yamato.  
Mimi had refused his exploits for the longest time. She had kept herself untouched by him long after they had begun dating. Yamato was not content with having this meer trophy, rather yearning for more- Sex... an urge which lingered like an insatiable apetite within the popular blonde. So did drug abuse. All the little demeanors to fame- a rock star's dilema as they say.  
He had it all then. Looks. Charm. Half a head taller than Jyou in a year's time after the defeat of Archnemon. All the testosterone-granted gifts of manhood was his, addling women's hearts from the Eastern Shores of Japan to the Western Shores of America. A voice above all voices, strumming guitar strings which such eloquency that they brought screaming masses at his feet.  
Teenage wolf.  
Rich beyond all his imaginings.  
Money intensified his own physical beauty a millionfold. He was the gem to the public's eyes.  
So was Mimi, his girlfriend of sorts.  
They were an indisputable couple.  
Mimi, the paradigmic young woman in form and personality and economic stature. Her face was on the spotlight of every pop culture magazine on the planet.  
A body for which an entire generation of boys had lusted over... those shapely, elegant fingers and those strawberry-now-brunette-later locks falling on her china-doll cheeks. And a voice, too. A siren, she was by Yamato's side, ensnaring men by her melodic whims.  
"Oh, how perfect!" They'd say "A match made in heaven!"  
Or... at least Mimi didn't think so. Hell was more like it. She wanted no part of this foolish charade.  
Could this be why she had longed for another?  
Namely the young Doctor-in-training, the perpetually-asthmatic Jyou Kido.  
Now short for his age and intellectually degenerate after failure after failure, he was everything Yamato was not- dirt poor, nameless, weak, scrawny.  
Could this be why?  
He was not Yamato. As far from Yamato as possible.  
And he loved her.  
He loved her since the beginning and she new. She had played the blind girl's part and continued to chase the cool blonde until the game turned against her. This bit her conscience, but to no avail. Fortunately, Jyou had forgiven her.  
He could do nothing but.  
Like a cure for blindness, she was able to see him for what he really was.  
And then, the euphoria of intercourse.  
She had done something she could never give Yamato.  
She knew she could only give this to the one she'd love forever.  
She learned bliss, even if it was too late for her to enjoy the fruits of this labor. No more time for her.  
Forever ended too soon.  
Yamato found out.  
Rape... Murder...  
Poor Yamato.  
Poor F*ckin' Yamato...  
Jyou was left alone again.  
Mimi is dead.  
Damn you, Yamato.  
Damn you...  
~*~  
Please Rn'R 


	2. When the Wheels of Forever Change Trampl...

~*~  
The Darkest Shade of Gray  
~*~  
By Kyoko_Jyou  
~*~  
Author's Note: This Fic was so labled since it's too... how should I put it... vulgar for a PG-13 yet withholds from much (but subsequently not all) the details of sex and violence befit for an NC-17... although there will be some violence and full frontal nudity... but no pointless sex and killing in cold blood. I do solemnly swear.  
~*~  
Chapter II: When the Wheels of Change Tramples  
~*~  
Grind, Wheels of Forever Change, grind the bones of proud humanity. Draw out blood and pour it's wine for the Earth is thirsty and so are thine...  
~*~  
The black coated man pulled out onto the garage of an elitist condominium in the richest parts of Metro Tokyo. His hair tossed gently in the breeze as he entered the glass doors opening into a luxurious grand lobby lit by crystal chandeliers, touching the faces of a thousand rare paintings owned by the richest men in Tokyo who for some reason now preferred to live in posh condos than large manors. Everybody's eyes turned to him.  
One of the 'Noveau Riche', they called him- striking it wealthy after a flash of sheer genius. Restoring life to once incurable maladies was this man's speciality. A miracle worker, no doubt? A very well dressed, very attractive miracle worker, says the young ladies in the bar.  
The seductive young of the rich- snobs to everybody else. Here in this seediest of habitats, they dress and act as they will, almost unclothed with their bare breasts calling out to the blue haired man- 'touch me... feel me... draw upon the wine of my fornication..."  
"Aren't we a little too young to drink." Jyou said with his eyes- almost telepathic in clarity. He took no notice of them afterwards, heading straight back to his own enclave on the fifteenth floor.  
Afraid of heights? Not anymore.  
Walking through his own door, he sniffed out the air.  
The perfumed walls and insenced floor wafted around him, dragging him into a state of sensuous abandon. It's amazing what you can do with a salary of over 500,000 US Dollars a month.  
He tossed his black trenchcoat onto a black leather couch, his form-modelled shirt now exposed to the dim light of a hundred glistening candles on dozens of black iron candelabras. He had gotten tired of flourescent lighting. Candlelight was an obvious alternative.  
His shirt balled up somewhere out of sight and his pants tucked deep under the couch somewhere, only his chest and abdomen- covered above and below with a thick mat of coarse blue hair and his suggestively bulged gray boxers kept him from being swallowed naked by the night.  
He walked on into his little personal gym and began a rigorous work out regimen, sweat falling like heavy rain into the acacia floor.  
Strenous, sinews, push and pull.  
A flurry of activity.  
Dumbels and barbels flew as if weightless- strange for Jyou since he had spent most of his youth dodging athletic activity. As they say, adolescence does strange things.  
His spiky hair dripping.  
His body wet as if submerged unto a salt pool...  
Then a quick pounding on the old bean bag.  
And off to bed.  
Lying down.  
Eyes closed.  
Then, after a few moments in bliss, a pair of satin white hands moved over his back, carressing with the gentle aroma of herbal oils.  
"Ah, you have returned." Jyou spoke in a low baritone, deep for his age.  
"But of course. Why shouldn't I."  
"I don't know. You could be happy elsewhere."  
"Never, apart from you, Jyou..."  
A pair of soft, supple breasts carresed Jyou's naked back- pink as the lilies of the Indies. Locks of brunette intertwined with his blue, melting in divine passion. Her lips, scarlet and radiant as that of the orient sunset, each half crossing the back of Jyou's neck.  
"You know very well who I was back then..."  
"I know all too well. I fell in love with you that way..."  
"C'mere..."  
Jyou tugged on her fragile silken arms and pulled her by his side, breast to chest. She felt a ticklish, hairy sensation followed by a thick thud. Falling on his cold azures eyes were a pair of familiar hazels...  
And a kiss...  
~*~  
A young Jyou sat before his PC, tapping away at his thesis. One more F and he's out of this private highschool his father had sent him to. He could afford to send him to one, but could he afford to atleast give him a decent allowance? Not a chance.  
He was alone.  
He was miles away from Odaiba.  
Miles away from Koushirou's championship basketball game or Sora's screening for the Japanese national tennis team. Latitudes away for the next sold-out Teenage Wolves concert or the sound of Mimi's breath.  
Mimi.  
A name which echoed from every dark corner of Jyou's mind.  
Jyou knew how the world now lusts for that gorgeous body of hers... now that she has become a star, trailing the marqees with Yamato's band. Now there's a perfect couple.  
Jyou continued typing, trying to think away these feelings... earnestly praying to forget that there was anything outside his dormitory walls.  
Meanwhile.  
"No, Yamato... I don't... I can't..."  
"No? Mimi... you're not saying this! No? As in... No?"  
"No Yama... you're just drunk... please... we can't..."  
"But why Mimi? Surely you're not..."  
"Yama... I can't do this with you... not yet... I know we've been together for some time now, but it just doesn't feel right..."  
"What doesn't feel right? Do you have any idea how many women out there would profess that nothing else feels more right?"  
"Yamato... please... don't..."  
"C'mon... just a quick one..."  
"No... yama, I have to go..."  
"Mimi?"  
"I'm... going back to Japan... for some time..."  
"But Mimi... you can't..."  
"Yama... goodbye..."  
"Mimi? MIMI! Come back here, WENCH! Damn you, Come back! COME BACK!"  
~*~  
Please R n' R 


End file.
